


Warm in December

by aerpocket2020



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: F/M, Modern Royalty, Romance, arranged marriage (sort of)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:34:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28150956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aerpocket2020/pseuds/aerpocket2020
Summary: Marta is almost a princess and Harlan wants Ransom to settle down badly.
Relationships: Marta Cabrera & Ransom Drysdale, Marta Cabrera/Ransom Drysdale
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	1. Chapter 1

Ransom

Harlan had been somewhat annoying about Ransom settling down.

“I’m just saying,” he’d held up both hands while they shared a drink the night of his 80th birthday. “You’re not getting any younger. Might be nice to have kids about now.”

Ransom had chuckled, “I’m not exactly opposed to having kids, but who would I have them with?”

“Pick one of the dozens of women you know.”

“Eh,” Ransom had shrugged and taken his grandfather’s empty glass from him. “I’m getting you a refill.”

Predictably a week later he still hadn’t let it go because Ransom got a very bizarre voicemail left at his house outside of Boston.

“I was wondering if you’d like to meet a princess?”

Ransom snorted.

“I know you’re laughing. But this is a real princess. A Spanish one. She’s coming to visit this weekend. She’s a fan of my work. Clean up nice and come over for lunch.”

Ransom drove over for lunch. Concerned that this was some type of scheme Harlan was caught up in where old men got taken advantage of by cat fishes on the internet or something. (Ransom was regretting showing him what Twitter was.)

When he pulled up the circular driveway in his fancy convertible and less than fancy jeans, favourite cream sweater and day-old scruff, he was more than surprised to see the rolls Royce in the driveway. Even weirder was that it had a driver.

Whoever his grandad had over was loaded at least.

He rang the doorbell and Fran appeared on the other side.

“Before I let you in, I should warn you,” Fran had held up a hand. “There’s a couple of beefy bodyguards ready to pounce at the slightest sign of trouble.”

“Sounds like a dedicated cat fish.”

“Mmmm, doesn’t seem like a cat fish,” she led him through the foyer to Harlan’s office downstairs, the one that featured a giant wheel made of fake knives. “Also, I think he’s trying to arrange like some sort of marriage for you.”

Ransom was mid-groan when Fran knocked on the office door.

“Come in!” Harlan called cheerfully from inside…too cheerfully.

Fran gave him a very manic thumbs up that alarmed him greatly before pushing him in.

His grandfather was sitting on the sofa wearing the hell out a pink shirt and mustard plaid blazer next to a verry pretty girl with big hazel eyes.

The lipstick she was wearing (if she was wearing any on her lovely plush mouth) was a very pale shade of pink and she looked very demurely dressed in a navy dress.

Very demure.

All except for her shoes really.

Black and pointed stilettoes with that sexy flash of red undersole that he could make out.

“Ransom you’re just in time,” Harlan stood up and the pretty girl stood as well (the shift of her legs unexpectedly enticing) giving him a very polite smile. “I’d like you to meet Her Excellency, Lucia Marta Cabrera, Duchess of Anjou.”

Her already rosy cheeks turned a lovely shade of bright red.

She stepped forward and extended a hand to Ransom very graciously for someone who was clearly so embarrassed. “It’s very nice to meet you Ransom. Please for God’s sake call me Marta.”

Her slight accent made her sound musical and adorable. And she was petite but curvy in her dress.

Ransom wasn’t sure if he wanted to sleep with her or put her in his pocket and carry her around all day.

“So modest. If I had a title, I’d use it all day,” Harlan chortled.

Ransom shook her hand a little, numb. “You’re not really a Spanish princess, are you?” he blurted.

“Ransom! Don’t be rude.”

She laughed nervously removing her hand from his gingerly (he’d been shaking it for longer than necessary maybe), “Technically yes, officially no. I have no royal title and I’m too far down the line of succession. I do have a better claim to the French throne. If it still existed.”

Ransom found himself chuckling, “All that Democracy. So horribly inconvenient.”

Marta

Ransom was, maybe more handsome than Marta had thought he’d be.

She’d been speaking with Harlan through emails and the occasional phone call over the past few weeks. Initially wanting to see if she could maybe catch him at a book signing. She hadn’t anticipated the invite to his Gothic Manor of a home.

He’d mentioned his grandson Ransom of course.

Frequently.

Too frequently.

Still, she’d been curious enough to google him and found pictures of what he looked like.

He was, unbelievably, still more attractive in person than even the most flattering photos of him in Boston society columns.

And right now, Harlan was scolding him.

“I told you to dress up nice,” he was saying. “That sweater looks like you had to fight the dogs to get in.”

(Marta thought it made him look rugged and sexy.)

He looked mildly chagrined but still protested weakly, “I thought you were kidding. I mean what would a princess want to meet you for.”

“I loved reading his books when I was in college,” Marta says. “I’m in town visiting family and I thought I’d see if I could get my copy of ‘The Needle Game’ signed.”

“How does a Spanish Aristocrat have family in Boston?” Ransom asked as they took a seat together while Harlan left the room to tell Fran to start setting the table.

“I had a paternal grandmother who was an American,” Marta explains. “She was from Boston. I’m having a little trouble locating her home though.”

“Ah so this is a finding your roots sort of thing?”

“Kind of. My mother passed recently. And except for the obvious family links it’s just me and my sister.” She didn’t know why she was telling him all this. “I haven’t had much luck. I got here and didn’t really know where to start looking.”

Ransom nodded soberly at her, “I’m sorry for your loss. If you’d like some help you could give me the details you do know about your grandmother and I could have a private detective friend take a look at it.”

Marta found herself smiling, “Thank you. And I’d appreciate the help.”

Harlan chose that moment to jauntily announce that lunch was ready.

And it was lovely.

Not just the food but the conversation.

Harlan was still annoyed at Ransom for showing up in his oldest jeans.

(When he stood at one point, she was delighted to notice he was just as hot from behind as he was from the front.)

Ransom bore all the scolding with good natured eye rolling.

She found out he owned a few art galleries.

“I’m never coming to one of your showings again,” Harlan complained. “I don’t need to be ambushed by graphic images of another man’s penis at my age.”

Marta found herself snorting into her hand.

“Harlan, for Christ’s sake,” Ransom looked embarrassed. “Phallic imagery isn’t automatically a penis.”

Marta preferred listening to them than joining in on conversations. It was nice to listen to.

She’d enjoyed herself so much she completely forgot her book until they’d escorted her out to the front porch.

Harlan took one look at the well-worn paperback she produced and mimed having a heart attack.

“Grandad!”

“I’m not signing a paperback. Hang on a minute. I’ve got lots of hardcovers upstairs.”

Marta murmured her appreciation and Ransom looked upwards as if searching for guidance.

When Harlan had puttered back into the house, she remained standing on the porch her coat over one arm and a stone-cold fox in a cream sweater that made his eyes pop.

“Let me give you that private detective’s card,” Ransom said reaching for his wallet. “He’s kind of a kook but he gets results.”

She took the pale slightly bent card from him and gave him a look of mild confusion. “A cook?”

“No, a kook,” Ransom shook his head smiling. “It’s like an odd person.”

“Oh,” Marta looked down at the card that read ‘Benoit Blanc’ in cheery loopy font and then at Ransom. “Thank you for your help. I feel like I got more out of this visit than I anticipated.”

“That’s good to hear.”

She fumbled with her coat a little until Ransom took it and held it out for her. “You can always let Harlan know if you’re having any trouble. Blanc’s an old friend of his.”

His fingers had brushed the back of her neck as he helped situate her coat better and Marta hid her shiver of delight as she turned back around.

She wasn’t sure what made her say what she said next but it came tumbling out of her mouth anyway, “Would it be possible for me to have _your_ number? Just in case I need a little more help.”

He seemed a little taken aback by what she said, blinking a little.

Marta felt the horror begin to fill her.

He probably thought she was interested in him!

(She was not uninterested exactly.)

The silence was just stretching the envelope of uncomfortable when Harlan showed up on the porch with the hardcover of his book.

“Signed it with my favourite Mont Blanc pen,” he said happily completely oblivious to Ransom shoving his hands awkwardly into his pockets.

“Thank you,” Marta tried to control the vicious blush that spilled across her face, but she was aware Ransom was still looking at her as she took the book from his grandfather. “This was…an experience.”

“I’ll say,” Ransom chuckled and something warm and sweet settled low in her belly.

“Keep in touch,” Harlan was saying as Ransom followed a little behind them to the car. “And you have to tell me how it goes with finding your relatives.”

“Ransom actually gave me a number for a private detective,” Marta said as her driver opened her door. “Again, it was very nice to meet you both.”

She shook Harlan’s hand. Shaking Ransom’s made her blush notch up wards of ten times the original colour.

She waved at them as her car drove away.

She didn’t discover she was mildly disappointed that she hadn’t got his number until she was out on the highway.

Oh well, at least she’d got a signed copy of her favourite murder mystery.

She flipped open the cover to read a very sweet personal dedication on the title page.

But on the bottom of the page was a ten-digit phone number and an aggressively penned arrow with the words: Ransom’s number. Call my grandson!


	2. Baby, it's cold outside

Ransom

When the car was out of site Harlan turned to him with a little grin, “Well?”

“Well, what?’

“Did you get her number? Did she ask for yours?”

Ransom was a little caught off guard. He wasn’t exactly off the mark. “She just wanted help finding some relatives.”

Harlan let out a disappointed sigh, the one he reserved specifically for Ransom, “I found you a princess. An actual princess.”

“I’m not going to marry her just because she’s a princess!”

“Aha! I see the thought has crossed your mind at least!”

Ransom held up a finger, “I’m going home. And stop trying to marry me off. Jeez.”

Harlan waved happily while Ransom drove away, because his grandson was oblivious to his (well meaning) meddling.

Ransom had a bunch of voicemails waiting for him when he got home. Irate customers and artists alike. Still, he felt the weirdest itch to google Marta while he was on his laptop for work.

He was also itching to sneak back to Harlan’s and snoop around for Marta’s number.

He could probably climb the trellis and use that window upstairs.

Then he wondered if he was being needy.

She’d asked for his number first!

She’d asked first damnit!

By the time he collapsed on his bed past 12.00 a.m. he conceded that maybe he was a little bit interested and mildly disappointed Harlan had interrupted on the porch.

There were a few voicemails from Harlan again the next morning but it was a working Sunday for him so he didn’t really get a chance to call him back until he was watching the gallery get set up for the evening.

“Did Marta call you?”

“ _How_ would she call me?”

“I gave her your number.”

“You, what? When?!”

“That’s not important here-.”

“Yes! Yes, it is.”

“Anyway, good luck with your showing tonight and call me if you hear from our Duchess.”

“Harlan!”

He was driving home to get dressed for the showing when his phone rang flashing the words ‘Private Number’ across the screen. He had a good suspicion it was Marta.

“Hello, Marta.”

“Hello, Ransom. Good evening,” she sounded nervous. “I seem to have run into a little difficulty with that private detective and your _Abuelo_ gave me your number. I hope I haven’t bothered you.”

“No, of course not,” he glanced at his watch. Shit, he had less than an hour to change and go back. “But I’m a little pressed for time right now.”

“Oh, of course.” She sounded disappointed, and Ransom could almost picture her worrying her pretty, pink bottom lip, “I didn’t mean to-.”

“No, not what I meant. I mean can this conversation wait until tomorrow? Breakfast maybe? I’d love to help.”

“That’s perfect,” she sounded happier. “I’m staying at the Boston Harbour Hotel.”

They set up a time to meet and Ransom found his mood had improved. The good mood persisted right through a rather unsuccessful showing (his third this month) and the decision to close the gallery until the first week of January.

He considered calling Harlan, but made a snap decision to just drive over instead.

Predictably, his grandfather was still awake, figuring out creative ways to murder unsuspecting victims.

“Two visits in one weekend,” he said lowering his glasses when he saw Ransom trudge into his office. “You’re turning into a decent grandson.”

Ransom snorted and headed straight for the drinks cart, “The showing was a bust.”

“Ah. Not a lot of interest in phallic imagery eh? You could always work for ‘Blood like Wine’.”

“No, thanks,” Ransom said pouring two glasses of whisky and handing one over to his grandfather. “I don’t think I could work with Walt.”

“So that’s why you came over at this time of night? Professional frustrations?”

It was on the tip of his tongue to tell him Marta was meeting him for breakfast. Hell, he probably already knew she had. But for some reason he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

In case things didn’t work out with…

Okay. No, pump the breaks right there.

“Nope,” Ransom smiled and grabbed the Go board off the bookshelf. “Just thought I hadn’t made you look bad in a while."

They played several games, with Ransom beating Harlan in most of them. He only stopped when Harlan, who was a sore loser, tipped over the board.

He could’ve stayed over but he didn’t want Harlan asking why he was leaving before breakfast.

He dressed a little better this time. Electing to wear a nicer pair of jeans and his good cashmere sweater.

He was halfway to the hotel when he got a call from Marta’s personal assistant (Jesus, she had one of those) letting him know that the restaurant was a little full that morning so she wanted to know if he minded having breakfast in her suite.

Her suite actually turned out to be the penthouse.

Marta

How was it, that despite having money for once her life and a lot of clothes she had absolutely nothing to wear?

By the time Carlos informed her that Ransom was 20 minutes away she’d already changed lipsticks twice and worn and rejected three dresses.

She finally settled on a fitted red cowl neck sweater dress that she thought looked nice enough but didn’t look like she was trying too hard.

He wasn’t that hot.

She was reading the paper when Carlos let him into the small dining room. Her stomach did a little belly flop at the sight of him.

Oh, who was she kidding. He was that hot.

“’Morning,” he said, smile bright, leaning on the doorway. “This is a nice set up you got here.”

“Is it?” she feigned looking around. “I hadn’t noticed.”

She stood to greet him and they did an awkward little dance where she wasn’t sure if she should shake his hand.

She finally settled for giving him a quick cheek kiss.

Which was a bad idea.

His cheeks were smooth and he smelled incredible.

What had she invited him over to talk about?

Oh right! The detective.

“I’m having a little trouble getting in touch with your Mr Blanc.” She began as they took their seats. “I went to the office address on the card and his secretary told me he’d been arrested.”

“Ah,” Ransom looked apologetic. “He can pull those disappearances on occasion. Did she say where he was being held?”

Marta felt her cheeks pink, “I think so, but she was speaking quickly and I didn’t really understand.”

Ransom nodded in understand, “We’ll drop by the office when we’re done and I can ask her. Might take some time while we bail out Blanc though.”

“ _Gracias,”_ she breathed. “You must be hungry. I hope you don’t mind. I ordered you some breakfast.”

“That’s fine. I’m starving.”

He was a little startled to discover she’d ordered a little of almost everything on the menu.

“I didn’t know what you’d like.” She said by way of explanation.

Ransom was shaking his head, “We’re going to take all morning to finish this.”

“Oh dear. We better get started then.”

Marta discovered over breakfast that he liked to sail in the summer and was a more than little competitive.

The latter delighted her. She could be competitive too.

“Do you play Go?” He asked her at one point.

“No, golf mostly. With my uncles. I don’t think I’ve played Go before.”

“I’ll have to teach you.” He said, sipping his coffee. “If there’s time.”

“I’m here until after New Year’s.” she blurted.

(She might as well hold a sign up over her head that read: I want to throw all of me in your face.)

“No kidding,” he smiled seemingly oblivious. “You should come to the Christmas party at ‘Blood like Wine’ tonight. I’ll put you on the list.”

“I’d love to.”

He grinned and Marta’s heart almost stopped, “I can think of one guy who’d be really happy to see you.”

She blinked, grinning back. “Really?” she leaned her chin on her hands eagerly. “Who would that be?”

“Harlan.”

“Oh,” if he noticed the mild disappointment in her tone, he didn’t show it. “Well, I would be really glad to see him too.”

“Uh-huh. You gonna to finish that bacon, sweetheart?”

“No, of course not,” she pushed her plate towards him. “All yours.”

She watched tickled as he finished all three slices of bacon. He was too adorable. When was the last time she’d had an interaction this normal?

“Okay, this was fun,” he dabbed at his mouth with a napkin and Marta wanted to groan in protest. “But we really have to go. Blanc’s probably started pissing off whatever drunk or addict he’s been thrown in with.”

They ended up taking her car and it was cold enough that Marta started wondering if Ransom would mind her curling up against him.

For warmth.

(And not because she wanted to feel his pecs or anything.)


	3. All I want for Christmas

The car dropped them off across the street from the office and Marta felt a little thrill when Ransom briefly took her gloved hand to help her across the street.

She should be embarrassed that even a little bit of attention from him was exciting but it had been a while, maybe even a year, since anyone had touched her in a way that wasn’t a formal occasion or a handshake.

Once inside the building she dusted the snow off her shoulders and stomped her feet a little. “I don’t think I like your Boston winters.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled, “You need more layers. A scarf, thicker gloves.”

And a stupid hot American boyfriend _,_ Marta thought nodding along.

That would warm her right up.

He could start this ‘warming’ in front of a fireplace…

Preferably on a fluffy white rug.

Together they trudged up the stairs to Blanc’s office. She hoped he didn’t notice the little start she gave when he pressed a hand to the small of her back to guide her down the right hallway.

Dorris, Blanc’s assistant looked just as bored today as she’d been the day before. But something like recognition flickered in her eyes when she saw Ransom.

“He just got back to his office,” she told them in a heavy smoker’s voice. “The police decided to drop the b&e charges.”

“How many times has he been arrested now?”

“Thrice this season. He’s not very good at sneaking around.”

Ransom chuckled, “Is it okay if we go in?”

“Go ahead,” she sounded immeasurably bored. “I think he’s been expecting you.”

Benoit Blanc turned out to be a handsomely wrinkled old fellow with an accent Marta understood even less than Ransom’s sometimes.

(When he was talking too fast for her sometimes she focused on how hot he was.)

“Mr Drysdale.” He drawled from behind his desk. “To what do I owe the displeasure?”

“Whatever Blanc. Not here for me this time,” He gestured Marta forward a little bit with a hand to her arm. “This is Marta Cabrera. She needs some help looking for a few people.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you Mr Blanc,” Marta said, when he came around the desk to shake her hand. “Ransom’s told me you’re a good detective.”

“Well, he would know my dear,” he smiled squeezing her hand briefly between two of his. “I think I’ve spent most of the last 20 years of my career proving trying to prove this young man wasn’t the cause of half the scrapes he got into.”

Interesting, Marta thought, so he had a little bit of a past.

Ransom gave him a withering look but Blanc continued to smile. “Now what can I do for you today?”

Marta explained what she knew so far. She really only had names and rough living locations. At the end of what she said Blanc didn’t look too hopeful.

“I would be grateful for anything you could tell me.” Marta said.

“Well Ms Cabrera I’ll do my best,” he said warmly, then turned to Ransom with a grin. “Tell your grandfather I’ll see him at the company tonight. I’ve just RSVP’d.”

“Greeeat,” Ransom smiled tightly. “I’m…excited?”

They talked some more and by the time they left it was already lunchtime.

“I’m starving,” Ransom remarked like he hadn’t eaten almost all the breakfast she’d ordered. “Do you wanna go back to the hotel or we can grab lunch at a place I know from back in college. I promise it’s not too shady for a princess.”

It was a little shady actually. A tiny bar in an Irish suburb of Boston. Ransom hung up their coats and they took a seat in a cosy little booth in the back.

She wondered if this is where a teenage version of Ransom had brought girls and tried tamping down on an irrational frisson of jealousy.

When Ransom was in college, she’d been in middle school back in Barcelona.

That was another thing that was confusing her a little. He seemed like he was interested in her sometimes but the decade between them made her wonder if he only wanted to look out for her out of some odd protective concern.

Ransom got himself a burger and ordered Marta some dessert.

“What did Blanc mean by all the scrapes you got into?” she asked when their waitress was walking away with their order.

He huffed out an embarrassed laugh, “I had a little bit of a wild youth.”

“I see,” Marta smiled. “How wild?”

“Very,” he said mock seriously. “Nothing I’d want a nice girl like you to hear about.”

“Mmmm, maybe I’m not such a nice girl.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled, “Yeah you are.”

She tired and failed not to smile, “You can’t have been that bad. I mean not as bad as what I’ve read on Google anyway.”

He started a little, “You Googled me?”

“Doesn’t everyone?”

“Well yeah but no one says it out loud.”

“I’m a very honest woman Senor.”

“Clearly. What have you read?”

“Enough.” If he was going to be mysterious, so was she. “Did you Google me?”

He stared at her for a moment, “Only a little.”

“I see. What did you read?”

“Well, it was mostly in Spanish. So, I didn’t really understand it. I know you broke off an engagement early this year. I’m sorry by the way. Must’ve been rough.”

“Don’t be,” Marta said. “It was incredibly easy to call it off. We were not a good fit. And he made me very unhappy most of the time.”

“What a douche,” he said with feeling. “You’ve gotta be one hell of an asshole to be okay with making a girl like you unhappy.”

And there it was. Another confusing statement that made her heart (and other places) pound unreasonably.

“What about you?” Marta said, before she lost all nerve. “Is there a girlfriend?”

“Just my work really,” he said with a small smile. “And like a bad girlfriend it’s draining my finances and taking up a lot of my attention.”

Their food had arrived by that time and Marta was stealing some of his fries when she said:

“I didn’t grow up like this you know.” She told him. “I wasn’t always a Duchess. I used to be just a nurse.”

“Oh?”

“My uncle.” Marta explained. “He didn’t have any children. He was the last Duke. When he passed, he willed me both his title and his estate. I’m still deciding if it was a good thing or a bad thing. I’ve been able to send my sister to college but I’ve made enemies. Mostly in my own family. I’m struggling to look after the estate.”

“Sounds like a best-seller.” Ransom said dryly. “You should tell Harlan this. He’s written a few historical non-fiction books.”

“I know,” Marta wrinkled her nose. “Don’t tell him I said this but They’re not very good.”

They said goodbye at the hotel after with Ransom promising he’d send Carlos the directions to Blood like Wine.

Which gave her four hours to wax her legs and get a wash and blowout at the hotel spa and salon. Then she had to buy a dress.

All of her dresses were very formal and mostly for warmth. She was sorely lacking in the sexy party dress department.

Fortunately, the hotel had a nice boutique.

The salesgirl was a young blonde thing who looked like she was in high school or college.

“I need a cocktail dress.”

“Oh,” the girl smiled brightly. “What’s the occasion? A party? A date?”

“I don’t really know,” Marta said, making the girl laugh.

In the end, Ellen, the girl found her a green velvet dress that fluttered around the knees and dipped very low in the front.

She had just enough time to do her make up and was slipping on a pair of strappy gold heels when Carlos told her she had a visitor.

“Hello, my dear,” Harlan said reaching for her when she reached the living room. “I thought you could come with me to the party.”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Marta said giving him a quick kiss. “Ransom said he’d give Carlos the directions. He was very helpful today.”

Harlan smiled, “Really? He said he’d invited you tonight but I had no idea you two had seen each other today.”

Marta felt her face begin to heat up, “I needed help getting in touch with that private detective friend of yours.”

“Of course, dear,” Harlan patted her hand as Carlos brought her coat and purse. “Unfortunately, you’ll have to put up with me for company for a little bit tonight. My grandson says he’s going to be late.”

She was a little disappointed. After all she had got dressed up specifically for him.

The ‘Blood like Wine’ party was incredible though. Harlan had an eccentric group of friends and employees who kept her entertained and everything was delicious or had too much alcohol in it.

(If you worked in writing it was a given that you didn’t need a liver, she supposed.)

Still, Marta thinks sullenly, as she sips her Irish hot cocoa. Ransom hasn’t shown up and she’s starting to feel a little stood up and mortified.

A bunch of guys ask her to dance and Marta says yes to all of them out of spite.

Of course, none of them are Ransom. They don’t look or smell nearly as good as he does, to her at least.

When her last dance partner starts making the ‘can I call you sometime?’ face she thanks him politely and goes to hide on a couch on a small make shift sitting area behind the 20-foot trees set up and decorated for the occasion.

Her lipstick is gone, her feet are beginning to hurt in her heels and her blowout is a little limp.

She’s spent the last few years since inheriting the title making the best of it. It was an awful lonely job but she’s never felt worse and more foolish than she does right now.

Pining for a man who obviously isn’t interested in her.

“Marta what are you doing here?” It’s Harlan with a whiskey in one hand. “Who are you hiding from?”

“No one really,” she attempts a smile. “I needed a minute.”

He gives her this look that says he’s seen right through her, “Ransom hasn’t shown up yet has he?”

“I really don’t like your grandson,” Marta says dryly.

Harlan lets out a deep sigh, “I know.”

Marta rises heavily to her feet, “I need to leave while I still have some dignity. Thank you for bringing me tonight. And I’m still really glad I got to meet my favourite mystery writer.”

Harlan is very sweet about it all. She’s a little sad because she does like him as well. He seems sad to see her call her car to leave.

Her security has escorted her down to the building’s lobby when she sees a familiar dark head duck into the building’s revolving doors.

“Hey?” Ransom says stepping cautiously towards her. “You leaving already? I was hoping we could get a drink.”

“No thank you,” Marta says deliberately mean. “I’ve already had several with several different men.”

“You, what?” He looks confused and maybe a little jealous. “Hang on sec are you mad at me?”

“Yes!” Marta almost shouts (she’s had maybe a little more to drink than she can handle), “I got my legs waxed and I bought a new dress! And I waited _three_ hours, Ransom!”

“It was an emergency,” he hisses desperately. When Marta rolls her eyes and tries to walk past him, he grabs the edge of her coat.

Her security reaches immediately for his taser until Marta signals him to stop.

“I need to talk to you.”

“I don’t feel like talking.”

“Five minutes. I just need five minutes. Then you can go.”

Marta relents, but extremely reluctantly. And they have an extremely awkward elevator ride upto Harlan’s office.

“Okay,” Marta says seating herself on the small couch in Harlan’s office and making a show of checking her watch. “Your five minutes just started.”

Ransom puts both hands on his hips and gives her a very hard stare.

Ay dios mio, Marta thinks, he’s sexy when he’s mad too.

“I didn’t leave you waiting deliberately.”

“Oh?”

“I had a meeting with my accountant. He says its not financially viable for me to continue with the gallery in Boston so if I don’t want to go bankrupt, I have to shut it down. Which means leaving ten employees out of work, just to keep the other gallery in New York functioning.”

Marta found her mouth opening and closing, “Oh.”

He leaned back on Harlan’s desk with a heavy sigh and tugged at the knot of his tie, “I needed to figure out a way to at least pay some investors back. Especially Harlan. He’d made an initial investment.”

Marta stands and brushes both hands over her dress, “Well,” she says, cheeks flaming. “I feel awful now.”

“You’re not the one who needs to feel awful,” he says as Marta steps closer to him, her knees brushing his a little. “I knew this might happen I was just hoping I’d turn a corner by the end of this year but I’m just haemorrhaging money.”

Marta cups his jaw in her hands and rubs her thumb over his chin, “You’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah, I guess,” He reaches up to fold her hands into his. “It’s not like I even like running the gallery sometimes. I just wanted _something_ to work.”

“So, find something else to do,” Marta says with a little laugh. “You can be a little careless but I doubt you’re completely stupid.” 

Ransom huffs out a laugh at that. “You can’t tell Harlan about this. I mean it needs to come from me.”

“Of course,” she says sedately.

“Now,” he says a twinkle in his icy blue eyes. “What about these several men you mentioned earlier?”

“I was just in a mood, “Marta says, refusing to look at him even as he stands to loom over her both her hands squeezed between his.

“Was it Parker from accounting? He smells like death,” he says dipping his head a little so his nose brushes hers and Marta’s knees are instantly jelly.

“I don’t know half their names,” Marta says supressing a little shiver as he leans in, forehead against hers. “All I know is that they weren’t you.”

And then she leans up to kiss him. Mostly so she can stop the smug smile that’s forming on his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you're all safe. I'm gonna add one more chapter. And there will be smut! The good kind! Coz why not!


	4. How to woo a princess

Ransom tastes like minty toothpaste and coffee. Really good coffee. And his mouth is very soft.

She pulls away with a little groan, his face still cupped in both her hands. “Come with me. I don’t want to be without you tonight.”

Ransom’s eyebrows shoot upwards but she can feel his big hands tighten on her waist. “Is that _allowed?_ ”

Marta blinks at him, “Why? Whose permission do you think we need?” she leans forward and kisses his ear, feeling him shiver. “Or I can come to your house.” She’s nipping the exposed skin of his neck by now and Ransom whispers a curse under his breath that strokes something slick at the juncture of her thighs.

“Okay, but that depends.” He says tightly.

“On what?” her groan is frustrated this time and one of her hands is already toying with the button of his shirt over his abdomen.

_God, if he looks as good as she thinks he does under all these layers she’s going to come right in her panties._

“On how much you’ve had to drink. Because you’re throwing yourself at me and I’m not a saint okay? I – “

She presses a finger over his mouth, “I’ve been throwing myself at you since breakfast.”

“Huh?” he looks confused as she straightens, one hand sliding down his shoulder to tangle smaller fingers with his bigger ones. “I’m usually better at picking up on these things.”

“You’re probably just getting older,” Marta teases as she tugs him out of the room. “But don’t worry. I’ll try to be as…explicit as I can with my intentions. Alright?”

“Yes, your Highness.”

Her personal assistant is blissfully absent when they get back to her hotel.

And they’re so hot for each other that they don’t even make it to the bedroom or even fully naked before Marta is climbing into his lap and sliding down his now exposed cock.

“Okay,” Ransom says roughly as Marta gasps and grinds in his lap hands braced on his shoulders. “You’ve gotta let me take off your dress at least.

It’s a task to get naked and keep moving, but he manages it.

“ _Jesus,”_ he mutters when her pretty breasts are taught and pink in his face.

He can’t resist taking one sweet little nipple in his mouth. It makes her suck in a breath and when he raises his head to look at her, she’s flushed and breathless.

So beautiful. He can feel his release racing up his spine and then Marta clenches tight around him crying out.

He buries his face in her neck while they come together. She’s soft in his arms but the pull of her is strong.

Her voice is hoarse when she slumps onto his shoulder but she still manages a weak laugh.

“I hope that wasn’t a review.” Ransom chuckles.

“No, that was very good,” she curls her arms around his neck and buries her face in his shoulder. “Thank you.”

“You’re kidding me right,” Ransom gently draws her face away from his shoulder cheeks clasped between both his big hands. “I can’t believe you’re even real.”

“Will you stay?” Marta whispers stroking up and down his chest. “I don’t want you to go.”

Ransom’s responding grin is incredible, “I don’t wanna go either.”

They lay together afterwards in a tangle of sheets in her bed and Ransom asks, quietly and almost like he’s scared, if she wants to spend Christmas with him and Harlan.

Marta’s head lifts off the pillow in surprise, “What?”

“I mean you don’t have to,” Ransom says quickly, shifting onto his side, sheet slipping off his shoulders. “I just figured if you don’t have any other plans. You might-“

Marta shakes her head quickly, “No, no. I would love to.”

“Oh, okay,” he sounds relived. “I thought that was a little fast.”

“I like fast,” Marta slides closer so she can lay on his arm and press her face into his shoulder. “Especially with you.” This is the warmest she’s been all winter. Maybe the warmest she’s been all year.

One of his hands reaches up to tangle in her hair, scratching at her scalp until she’s fast asleep against him.

Ransom sleeps very deeply. It takes a minute for her to shift the arm he’s thrown around her, but it hardly wakes him. The only thing he does is curl his arm around her pillow, eyelashes soft against his cheek.

She leans down to kiss his shoulder, “Stay right here, alright?”

He still isn’t awake when she gets back with a breakfast tray so she settles in beside him in a t shirt and puts on her glasses to read the morning paper.

This is very nice. Curling up next to him, like this. Especially how when he does wake up it’s only to put an arm around her waist and kiss her hip.

“Hi,” Marta grins down at him, running her fingers through his hair. “Are you hungry? I have breakfast.”

One blue eye looks blearily up at her, “Is it okay if I stay here for a sec?”

Marta tosses the paper away and slides down beneath the covers next to him so fast it startles Ransom.

“Did you say ‘for sex’?” She curls one hand into the hair at his nape, making him laugh.

“Well, I said ‘for a minute’,” he says. “But yeah, sex sounds good. C’mere.”

Their mouths meet in a sloppy kiss.

Morning breath be damned.

Marta breaks the kiss with a very sexy noise.

“Good morning.” Ransom says, smiling down at her.

“ _Buenos Dias,”_ Marta says, hands settled against his chest. “Are you busy today or can we meet later?”

Ransom shifts so he’s lying on her shoulder and isn’t crushing her. “Don’t you have a meeting with Blanc today?”

“Not until after lunch.”

“Okay,” Ransom presses his mouth to her skin. “I’ve actually got some work at home. Do you want to come to my house? I’ll make you lunch.”

Marta sighs a little. “Actually, I can’t just visit private residences…”

“Really? You wanted to come over last night.”

“I was trying to get you into bed. But Carlos needs to do a security sweep. Especially if-“

“Especially if you what?”

Marta bites her lip a little. His face close to her own. “If I have to stay the night.”

“Oh,” Ransom is laughing now. “We’re doing the ‘is it too soon for me to stay over’ dance.”

“Hotel sex is neutral territory. I don’t want to intrude at your home.”

Ransom kisses her quickly, shifting so he’s lying against the pillows and Marta is tucked against his chest.

“I already invited you to spend Christmas with my family. I think we’ve moved past the scheduled sleepovers to ‘where is this going’?”

Marta makes a little groan, placing a hand over her eyes.

“Hey,” Ransom says jostling her a little. “Last night you were saying you liked ‘fast.’”

“There’s a fine line between ‘fast’ and getting carried away.”

“Uh huh? What’s that mean?”

“It means that I was engaged last year and now I’m spending Christmas with-”

“Your new concubine?”

Ransom laughs when she hits his chest. “You’re a strange man.”

She still kisses him though. Because his hands in her hair and on her skin feel incredible. Because when they have sex it makes her feel elated and sated at the same time.

********************************************************************

The security sweep doesn’t take too long. Eventually Marta’s two security guards are staying in his guest house and Carlos is on his way back for Christmas with his family.

(He’s cranky about leaving Marta with someone who goes by the name ‘Ransom’ but isn’t complaining about the extra vacation time.)

There’s not much of a fuss about having Marta’s clothes and belongings put into his closet.

“I don’t think I like your house too much.” Marta says looking around his living room, hands deep in the pockets of her sweater.

Ransom frowns at her over his shoulder, while he chops garlic for lunch. “Do you have any idea how expensive this place was?”

“Expensive, yes,” Marta says reaching to put both arms around his waist. “But all these glass walls are as you Americans say, a little creepy. Suppose someone saw us naked.”

“I don’t think we’d hear any complaints.”

After lunch they actually end up snowed in so Marta has to cancel her appointment with Blanc.

She’s concerned they might grow bored with each other, but it turns out they actually like each other with their clothes on too.

It’s almost frightening. The kind of ease in which she’s just slotted right into his life. Watching movies together, Ransom teaching her to play ‘Go’ (which she turns out to be scary good at). They even manage to sit in comfortable silence while Ransom does a little work in his office and Marta reads one of his books on the sofa he has in there.

It’s all so normal.

So (dare she think) domestic.

And the sex is just fantastic.

She’s laying panting on his chest, voice hoarse from shouting, when she makes a snap decision.

“I want you to come with me,” she says breathlessly against his chest.

“Okay, Baby.” Ransom gently pats one of her butt cheeks. “Give me a minute and I’ll be good to go.”

Marta sits up with a little groan and Ransom’s eyes immediately drop to her breasts. She crosses her arms over them to gain his attention. “I meant back to Spain. Come with me.”

That’s got his attention. He sits up against the headboard and Marta drags a sheet around her. He doesn’t draw away like she expects him to. Pulling her against his chest instead.

“I’d like to, but I can’t right now.” He says smoothing a hand up and down her arm.

“Okay,” she bites her lip. “How about over the Summer?”

“I think I can manage that,” he grins down at her. “Do you think you could stay a little longer? Than New Year’s I mean.”

“Yes,” Marta says without hesitation. “I’ll call Carlos tomorrow.”

They clutch at each other in the low light, too keyed up to fall asleep.

Finally, Marta reaches up to scratch at his chin with his fingers. “Ransom?”

“Hm?”

“Can you sleep?”

“Not really.”

“Should we go downstairs and watch tv?”

“That won’t help. We really need to sleep. We’ve got a long day ahead of us. And I mean that’s just my mother.”

Marta sits up sits up suddenly, giving him a coy look over one olive shoulder. “Wanna do drugs?”

Ransom barks out a laugh. He wasn’t expecting that. “Like a line of coke? On my coffee table?”

“No,” she pouts a little. “I have a little weed. My sister gave me some.”

“Marta,” Ransom singsongs. “I never would have guessed. You seem like such a nice girl.”

“It’s in my bag,” she’s already slipping off his bed and into one of his t-shirts that she’s in the process of stealing.

It turns out Marta doesn’t actually know what to do with the weed because she’s never actually smoked it before.

“Not even in college?” he furrows his brows at her, while he grabs a lighter from his bathroom cabinet.

“In nursing school?” She replies, lounging on his bed. “That would be in poor taste.”

“I know nurses who smoke weed.”

“It concerns me that you’ve said nurses,” she stares at him. “That you’re using the plural.”

“You’re my favourite one though.”

“I’m flattered but you’re not that cute."

*******************************************************************************************

“What’s this?” Marta asks, around 2.00 a.m. with Ransom curled around her from behind.

“This?” he points to a framed photo of a sports car on his nightstand. “That’s my car.”

“I didn’t see it in your garage earlier,” her voice is softer, like she’s sleepy.

“Oh, ya know,” he kisses her neck. “Long story short. Totalled it in a car accident.”

“Hm, were you alright?” she turns over to face him. “Was it a very bad one?”

“I was on my way back from Harlan’s a few years ago,” he says running his big hand up her side. “We had an argument. I’d been drinking…”

Marta shifts closer, curling into him a little. “What was the fight about?”

“Something stupid,” he shook his head absently, but his hand has tightened on her ribs. “I wasn’t paying attention. The next thing I knew it was wrapped around a tree.”

“Were you hurt?”

Ransom nods, “Internal bleeding. I woke up in hospital a week later. Apparently, some trucker had found me.”

“Ransom, I’m so – “she starts.

“It’s okay, really.” He says, thumb pressing briefly into her lower lip. “I wasn’t such a great guy back then. I was sleeping around. Doing recreational drugs. I was… complicated.”

Marta gives him a little kiss, “And now?”

“And now,” he brushes her hair behind her ear. “I’m a broke gallery owner. You sure you want to tangle with the likes of me?”

“Your grandfather says you’re a good man and I’m inclined to believe him. He was insistent that I call you.”

Ransom groans, squeezing his eyes shut, “That little trick with the novel the other day-“

“I thought it was sweet. We talked about you very often in our emails.”

“Yeah? What did he say? He tell you about the time I threw a party at his house in college with thousands of dollars’ worth of property damage?”

“He said you were getting older and that he wanted great grandchildren.”

“Ah, well.” He’s grinning at her even as she scoots closer so he can hold her. “No pressure there.”

She kisses him briefly on the chin, “I think our children would be very cute.”

“Thought this through have you?”

“I already know some good schools.”

He’s still smiling at her in the dark, “Get some rest. I meant it when I said my family’s an ordeal.”

“Okay,” he eyes flutter shut, the warmth and scent of him warming her instantly. “Good night, Ransom.”

“Good night, Baby.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is going to be three chapters. I'm excited! I'm kinda looking for someone to help me with a few pictures and art for this. Lol.


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